Bittersweet

November 5th, 2008

So, Barack Hussein Obama will be our next President. I can’t say how proud I am that our country elected this person to its highest office. Here are a couple of eloquent people, saying the things I would say if I only had their skill with words:

Now for something a little less jubilant…

My lovely wife teaches in La Vega Independent School District, which serves the city of Bellmead. Her school, La Vega Intermediate School H. P. Miles Campus, was built in 1963, and is in horrible, horrible shape. It desperately needs to be renovated or rebuilt entirely, but nobody appears to really care.

-The 2000 census shows Bellmead’s population at 9,214. 29.5% were under 18 years of age, leaving 6,496 voting-age residents. Last night, just 1210 votes were cast for four school-related issuesless than 19% of the voting population of the city.-

Correction: The 2004 General Election results for Bellmead indicate that there were 4,847 registered voters. That means that 25% of the electorate turned up to vote yesterday. That’s a pitifully low number, but it positively dwarfs the 212 individuals (4.4%) who voted in 2004. By comparison, 59% of McLennan county registered voters participated in the 2008 election.

All four ballot issues were voted down.

  • Bellmead won’t be building a new athletic facility.
  • Bellmead won’t be building a new administrative building.
  • Bellmead won’t be building a new intermediate school.
  • Bellmead won’t be increasing taxes to pay for teacher raises or expanded school programs and services.

Finally, gay rights activists didn’t fare very well across the country, either. State amendments to ban gay marriage were passed in Arizona and Florida, and Arkansas voters approved a measure banning adoption or foster care by unmarried parents (backers of the measure made it clear that they were targeting homosexual couples).

So, here’s my analysis: The racial barrier has been broken. Children raised in low-income cities (and the teachers who essentially raise them) continue to suffer due to voter apathy and ignorance. We still discriminate against people based on what they do in their own bedrooms.

We have a long way to go.


Dinner at Uchi

November 2nd, 2008

Donnell and I ate at Uchi two weeks ago.

To make a long story short, it whas phenomenal. The courses went thusly:

  1. Pickled cucumber amuse bouche
  2. Flounder sashimi with yuzu and shredded daikon salad
  3. Poached Maine lobster with fennel and Granny Smith apple
  4. Sweet shrimp sashimi with uni
  5. Seared diver’s scallops with bone marrow, steamed chard greens and pickled chard stalks
  6. Grilled halibut with crab gelée, okra, and heirloom cherry tomatoes
  7. Sea bream with Thai chili
  8. Escolar carpaccio
  9. Young chicken with gooseberries and a mustardy sauce
  10. Foie gras sushi (by far my favorite)
  11. Oak-smoked chocolate, red pepper sorbet, dark chocolate sauce, bitter chocolate wafer, with a white chocolate powder

We’ll definitely go back, but probably not splurge on the omakase dinner. Instead, I could probably spend a couple of hours eating some amazing sashimi and sushi, and drinking some nice sake (I was pleasantly surprised by my first experience with unfiltered sake). It’d be a fantastic place to take friends and/or family…


Finale

September 30th, 2008

We completed the last big push of the war (though we did not then realize it), and six days later I found the standing stones. They awakened me.

I left my company later that evening, found and retraced my path through the woods, and emerged into the clearing. Threads of energy crackled from stone to stone, blue like the moonlight which filtered down through the treetops.

I stepped through the circle’s perimeter, hand grazing one of them fondly. They were more weathered than when I set them.

My centuries here complete, I gained the center, looked up, and went home.

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Eidolon

September 29th, 2008

The rhythm of the music was intense, insistent. The crowd had long since ceased to be a collection and was a million-limbed organism, pulsating and throbbing to the bass line.

I’ll never understand how my eyes singled her out of the crowd, or how our gazes somehow locked on each other across that morass. We found each other, though. We moved tentatively, locked onto a common frequency, bounced, twisted, danced, lived, died, were reborn. Always together, always in synchrony.

The night ended, as they all do, with the rising sun. We parted reluctantly. I see her sometimes, fleetingly, like moonbeams.

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Precis 1

September 28th, 2008

By all accounts, the train entered the mountain tunnel with twenty-four cars and emerged with twenty-five. The extra, inserted somehow between the twelfth and thirteenth cars, appeared identical to all the others with the exception of its impenetrably-black windows.

Upon arrival at the nearest station, all attempts to enter the car were fruitless. Examination revealed that the doors were not functional: they were sections of the exterior surface molded and painted to look like doors.

The car was separated from the others and moved to a service building where it remained for one night before vanishing without a trace.

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